Read Online Cadbury Creme Murder by Susan Gillard - Free Book Online Page B

“Then we don’t have much time,” he said coolly.  His index
finger tightened on the trigger.
     
    KA-BOOM!
     
    Heather
screamed, clutching desperately at the table.
     
    But
she wasn’t falling.
     
    It
was Banner who was crumpling to the floor before her eyes. 
     
    Sucking
in great, heaving gulps of air, Heather’s shocked mind was unable to comprehend
what had just happened.  “You ain’t hurt,” a voice said, sounding like it was
coming from miles away.  “I got him.  You’re okay.”
     
    Disbelievingly,
she turned toward the back door to see who had fired the shot.
     
    And
looked straight into the lined face of Wilbur Smith.
     
     

Chapter
10
     
    William
did, indeed, arrive only moments later as she sat huddled on the back stoop
next to Wilbur Smith.  “Heather?  What’s the matter?” he asked, seeing the look
on her face.  He glanced from one of them to the other, then to the open back
door.
     
    “You’re
not going to believe this,” she said, but was interrupted by the arrival of the
first patrol car with its lights blazing and siren blaring.  The car screeched
to a stop at an angle without entering the driveway.  The driver’s door was
shoved open, and the driver crouched down behind it, his hand on his gun. 
     
    “Officer
Foley, Hillside PD!” he shouted.  “We got a report that someone was shot. 
Where’s the gun?”
     
    Wilbur
Smith stood up and took a couple of slow steps toward the officer.  “I’m the
one who—”
     
    “Stop
right there!” Foley ordered.  “Where’s the gun?”
     
    Smith
came to a stop in the driveway.  “It’s in my waistband,” he answered.
     
    “Sir,
I need you to stand right there until we get some more officers here and we can
figure out what’s going on,” Foley said. 
     
    Seconds
later, a second car skidded to a stop, and another officer joined the first. 
After that, it seemed like officers were arriving in droves.  Foley ordered
Smith to slowly remove his gun from his waistband and lay it on the ground,
then back away.  Another officer secured the gun in the trunk of his vehicle.
     
     
     
    Smith
obeyed.  William’s mouth dropped open as he and Heather raised their hands,
too.  “Where’s the gun?” the officer repeated.
     
    “It’s
in my waistband.”
     
    “I
need you to stay right there until another officer gets here,” Foley
instructed.
     
    Ten
seconds later, another patrol car slid to a stop, and a second officer joined
Foley.  After that, it seemed that officers were arriving in droves.  Foley
ordered Smith to lay the gun on the ground, then back away.  An assist officer
secure the weapon in the trunk of his vehicle.
     
    Two
officers led Smith to the porch of his own home; others allowed William and
Heather to sit at opposite ends of Verna’s front porch.  The ambulance arrived,
and the paramedics went inside.  A few minutes later, they came back out, and
more officers went in.
     
    “May
I make a phone call?” Heather asked one of the officers standing on the porch
with them.
     
    “Not
yet, ma’am.  I’m sorry,” he answered.
     
    Another
officer, whose silver name tag read Carlson, took her name, address, phone
number, and other basic information.  “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”
he asked. 
    “I
was supposed to meet William here,” she answered.  “Just to go through some of
his mother’s things.  We thought maybe there would be something there that was
connected to her murder.”
     
    “What
time?”
     
    “No
certain time.  After we hung up, we were both going to leave right away and get
here as soon as we could.  When I got here and saw there was a car in the
driveway, I thought it was William.  But it wasn’t.”
     
    Slowly,
because it seemed that a fog of unreality was enveloping her brain and making
it hard to think, Heather told him about knocking on the door.  About trying
the knob and stepping inside.  About discovering that the person who was